


Upright and Locked Position

by Avdal



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Character Development, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Mile High Club, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rating May Change, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Tags May Change, Unresolved Sexual Tension, champagne fixes everything, redefining a relationship, sex on a plane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-07 15:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10363353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avdal/pseuds/Avdal
Summary: Chloe had always felt very ambivalent about the idea of sex on a plane.  Then the day came that she had to spend 14 hours and 32,000 feet with the devil himself.





	1. Chapter 1

So… let’s talk about the Mile High Club.

 

Chloe had never given it much thought. Sex on a plane? That would be a big, unhygienic, uncomfortable “not going to happen” for her. Leave going at it like that to couples on honeymoon or randy college kids jetting off to Cancun for Spring Break.

 

It was definitely not the kind of thing for a grown woman who was in possession of so many adjectives that were in direct conflict. Police officer. Ex-wife. Mother. And, you can’t forget, her and Lucifer’s _“_ _i_ _t’s complicated.”_ None of these titles made the idea of boinking someone while several miles high in the air seem either attractive or likely.

 

Things have a way of changing, though. Like how suddenly (about four hours into her trans-Pacific flight) the topic inexplicably found its way into dominating the first and foremost space of her thoughts.

 

Normally air travel filled her with little more than bored ambivalence. The repetitive and annoying predictability of long-term parking flowing into departures and check -in. Seat assignment then wrestling with her bag into the overhead compartment. A polite refusal to the gangly teenage boy who somehow towered over her and offered to help. She can take care of it herself, but thank you, it was nice to see that chivalry and manners still exist. Finally, all that was left to her day before trying to get some shut-eye on the red-eye was a goodbye text to Trixie before the wheels start rolling down the runway.

 

Business as usual and just another annoying flight.

 

Then a polite tap on her shoulder and the stewardess tells her that she’s been upgraded.

 

_Upgraded?_

 

Boom. Just like that. And wait. Did she really mean from coach to first class? Another huge “not going to happen”. Not in the world of her life and paygrade.

 

And what do you mean that it’s already been taken care of? But the plane doesn’t look fully booked so she couldn’t have gotten bumped, right?

 

Nevermind that, though. 14 hours reclining in luxury instead of at knees-to-seat-back? Treat yourself, Chloe, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

So she shuffles ahead to the front of the plane. Trying not to smirk as she gets sidelong glares from her (green with envy) former coach companions. Maybe someone on the cabin crew found out that she’s a cop? Technically Chloe is going away on assignment. About to go under cover and try to catch a bad guy, but she’s not going to count the clock as starting until she clears immigration in Sydney and meets up with her contact.

 

Her “contact” being her ex-husband because the universe is an intrinsically unfair place where no amount of complaints to the department head could get her out of having to pretend that she and Ex are a happy couple of newlyweds. It was the perfect cover story required for their undercover assignment. Apparently. Or so she was told, because “they already have that dynamic between them”. And the fact that they’re inevitably going to be bickering under their breaths will further add to the air of authenticity.

 

So, yes, _that’s_ what Chloe gets to look forward to when she touches down. “Newlywed” again to Dan and he, being the dork that he is, will be guaranteed to do some silly gesture like show up with flowers or something else embarrassing.

 

So, yeah. Treat yourself, Chloe. You’re going to need everything you can get to survive this job.

 

And then, of course, when she’s shown to her seat there _he_ is. No, not Dan, her other _he._ Lucifer Morningstar. The devil himself waiting for her in first class. Which makes sense since he’s such a first class kind of guy, right?

 

Lucifer already has his chair down in full-on lounge mode with his feet cockily propped up on the end table. Next to him is a bottle (the full bottle, not just a glass) of champagne chilling on the table between their two recliners.

 

“Surprise, surprise, Detective,” he says, though he’s clearly anything but.

 

Her first instinct is to be cross with him.

 

She’s not exactly sure why. It’s just the reaction that she defaults to when confronted with her beyond unpredictable partner doing something crazy as all hell. And yes, that last pun was definitely intentional.

 

Maybe that’s wrong of her. Technically he hasn’t _done_ anything yet. Actually, she’s sure that he has. And probably 'doing something' includes one of the stewardesses already and Chloe just doesn’t know about it yet.

 

So she settles on her trademark skeptical frown. Her famous Chloe Scowl. Letting him know that she’s _onto him_ and he’d better not try anything.

 

Let your guard down around the Devil and… he’ll offer you a drink, apparently.

 

“Lucifer...” yeah, that’s right, Chloe. Low tone. Flat but making your suspicion come through clearly. “Lucifer, what are you doing here?”

 

If her deliberately sub-zero reception to his presence makes a blip in his exterior, it’s a very small blip. His smile remains as (for lack of a better word) devilish as it always is. If anything, it grows even wider to her unspoken accusation of a plot against her.

 

“Waiting for you, Detective, of course. Though I hope you don’t mind if I cracked open the bubbly before your arrival.”

 

He directs her attention to the champagne with all of the sweeping gestural flare of a magician revealing his latest trick. And, indeed, the level of the bottle makes it seem nearly half gone.

 

Already? Really? The plane isn't even off the ground yet.

 

But Lucifer Morningstar’s tolerance is the stuff of legends and he doubtlessly has another bottle or three waiting in the wings for after takeoff.

 

Chloe is about to ask him about that: what kind of a flight is he gearing up for _exactly_ , when a voice clears its throat behind her.

 

A pretty young stewardess with her hair in a bun smiles at her. She politely gestures at the still empty reclining seat next to her impeccably dressed partner. It reminds Chloe that she probably sticks out like a sore thumb here in the Richie Rich section, so she returns the cordial expression and quickly sits. Not wanting to draw anymore attention to herself since, yeah, undercover work is afoot and all that.

 

She waits until the stewardess leaves before turning to face Lucifer. He reaches out and across from her, catching her seatbelt and buckling her in just like she would do to her daughter.

 

“Lucifer!” she hisses, allowing his annoying gesture strictly for the sake of avoiding the scene she really wants to make.

 

“We’re about to take off, Detective,” he whispers, matching her low tone just to be extra irritating to her. “Safety first, my dear.”

 

She’s about to retort. Then realizes she has nothing to retort with. After all this time together they're well past the _'could you just stop being yourself for a few minutes?!'_ stage of pettiness and have progressed to occasionally exasperated acceptance of each other's quirks. So she settles for biting her tongue and allowing him to fill up her champagne flute. He does it right to the very brim, naturally, and it makes her hurry up and drink from it before it froths over and onto her lap.

 

“Cheers?” he offers. Jovial as always but not at all luciferous. And yes, that is actually a word.

 

Fine then, she can grill him about what the hell he's doing here (this is supposed to be a secret undercover mission goddamnit) at a later time. But right now the champagne is freaking amazing and that's reason enough to let herself get distracted. Like, it's the _really_ good quality stuff. The best she’s had since… her _real_ wedding to Dan.

 

Just thinking of the problem situation waiting for her Down Under is enough for her to drop the hatchet and return the toast offered by her partner. Can't leave him hanging after giving her such a treat.

 

“So you did this, right?” she asks, "you got my ticket upgraded?”. Her words are muffled by the glass between her lips and the bubbles tickling her nose. And she knows the answer, too, but she's hoping the prompt for conversation will get him to explain himself.

 

Lucifer’s smile grows then. Even wider than before but losing that Bad Boy-ness quality as it becomes something altogether more genuine.

 

“Certainly. I hardly would enjoy the flight so much on my lonesome.”

 

She sips at her drink. Watching his fingers twiddle expectantly on the bottle as he waits for her to finish so he can fill her glass again.

 

_Are you trying to get me drunk, Morningstar? Oh wait, of course you are, but maybe it's not the worst idea on a flight this long._

 

“Okay… that’s kind of sweet.”

 

She lets him have that. Because she doesn’t know how much he had to pay for her ticket and even though he’s got more money then common sense… yeah, it’s kind of sweet. And 14 hours spent getting drunk with the devil in comfort beats 14 hours of trying to sleep in an upright position in the ass-end of the plane, right?

 

At yet, Chloe has to make herself glance at him. Suddenly feeling awkward that she’d been avoiding eye contact for no reason other than she was getting into her own head again.

 

He’s still smiling at her. Expectant and with his eyebrows raised. Very much like Trixie when she’s hoping to get praised after doing something exceptional but being too modest too brag about it.

 

Trixie, that is. Not Lucifer. There never was a modest bone in his body, starting with his first candid and buck naked attempt to seduce all those many months ago.

 

Chloe sighs. Giving in and letting herself smile back at him.

 

“Lucifer… thank you.”

 

Just like that, like the magical magician that he is, her empty glass gets filled up in the blink of an eye. They toast to a pleasant flight in good company.

 

And Chloe keeps to herself the thought that she hopes they’ll still be on speaking terms with each other when they land.

 

*

 

An hour and a half in and Chloe’s starting to feel pretty special.

 

It’s not just the first class treatment, though constantly being doted on by the cabin crew asking her if she needs anything at all is rather nice. Almost like she’s at a spa or a fancy resort.

 

But the champagne… oh yes, that’s catching up with her. Lucifer just keeps on filling up her glass and she just keeps on drinking and forgetting to ask him _what the hell is he doing here?_

 

He’s her partner. Granted that she didn’t ask for him to join her or have any idea that he would be here, but it’s kind of what partners do: exist in the same space and help with the case.

 

Oh, right. _The case_. Well, it might be hard to explain why she, being a supposedly blissful newlywed, is spending the flight drinking with a handsome man who’s most assuredly not her “husband”. But again, she doesn’t clock in until the wheels come down in the southern hemisphere.

 

And perhaps Lucifer might be useful. He always is, she reluctantly admits to him. Trying and failing to wave off him touching up her glass yet again for the she’s already forgotten how many-th time.

 

“Yes, Lucifer. You’re a great partner. You go in there and… you do you. You do your thing and somehow the mission is always a success. So, yeah, you’re a good one.”

 

Wow… okay. Did she say she was feeling special? Because apparently she’s more than special. Steadily approaching “inebriated” with “rather trashed” in the not too distant horizon.

 

“Detective...” he starts to say something. Then shakes his head. Probably was going to comment on how Drunk Chloe is much less of an uptight stick in the mud. Mud or perhaps other locations as well.

 

But, you know what? It’s his fault. He’s seen her sauced before. And one of the perks of spending four times more on a ticket is that no one has anything to say when she suddenly laughs uproariously. Giggling too loudly to be ignored as her partner tells her a dirty joke about the last time a woman told him the words “mission success”.

 

That kind of gets the wrong train of thought started in Drunk Chloe’s head. Sex. Don’t think about sex. You’re about to be a newlywed on “honeymoon” for godsakes…

 

"Have you been to Australia before?" she asks, desperate to change the topic from the raunchy line of thought her mind had been suggesting.

 

"Detective, I've been _everywhere_."

 

She rolls her eyes. Such a Lucifer answer. But she can feel that her cheeks are getting tried from smiling so much. If she were sober, his non-answer would probably have annoyed the crap out of her. Deep into bottle of champagne number two (shared, not just all drunk by her, _thankyouverymuch_ ) and she forgets why she ever thought he could be bad company.

 

*

 

Three hours down, eleven left to go.

 

Chloe was still a little (okay, maybe more than a little) too drunk to fully appreciate dinner. _'It was something special,'_ Lucifer had told her, but she didn't know if that meant because the meal was first class fare, or because it was something that he had planned just for the occasion. Probably the latter, perhaps?

 

"You've really thought of everything, haven't you Morningstar?"

 

His last name rolls out unevenly on her champagne numbed lips, but he follows her meaning as smoothly as if he'd plucked the thought right out of her head himself.

 

"Of course. When else might I have the chance to have you as such a captive audience?"

 

She laughs, giggling into her champagne. How much has she had already? He's funny, though.

 

"Your captive? Is that what I am now?"

 

His smile grows. It had never fully left him, though it had settled into a subtle lift to the corners of his mouth while her cheeks ached from grinning for so long.

 

"I suppose so, yes. For the next few hours at least, unless you happen to have a parachute hidden in your décolletage."

 

He glances significantly at her chest. She follows his gaze with her chin, noticing the broader expanse of bare flesh than she usually permits. And just when had she opened up the top three buttons to her blouse?

 

A flash of embarrassment blooms across her skin, tinging it a bright pink. He clears his throat and looks away. An oddly gentlemanly gesture that makes her grin into her glass.

 

"Captured by the tall, dark, nightclub owner? Sounds like the title of a bad romance book, Lucifer."

 

"You forgot ' _devilishly handsome'_ in there, Detective. And my romances _always_ end on a high note."

 

"Oh, of course they do, Mr. Morningstar, of course they do."

 

To emphasize her teasing, she promptly dips two fingers into her champagne flute then flicks them at him. He double blinks at her childish gesture and for a second she wonders if they're about to get into a highly ridiculous food fight right here between the rows of overpriced padded leather recliners.

 

Then she does it again, this time aiming right for the center of his forehead.

 

"Detective..." he warns, catching her hand in his to keep from getting any damper.

 

She lets it drop to the little table between them and he holds on. Staring into her face and she can see him growing visibly confused by whatever he finds there.

 

Lucifer... sure is easy on the eyes. She's thought that before so she knows it's not _just_ the alcohol talking. But booze has a way of enhancing every emotion, and right now he's starting to look positively delectable.

 

Great. Drunk Girl Chloe is checking out her partner and not even trying to hide it anymore.

 

"Devilishly handsome indeed," she whispers, not able to help herself. Leaning in just a little too close and watching how it's his turn this time to blush and stumble.

 

Then he gets it. _Oh._ She's being a dork again. She’s good at doing that.

 

"Detective... are you trying to flirt with me?"

 

"Maybe."

 

Even she doesn't know the answer to that question for sure. But she winks at him again as she plays with his hand. Pinching each top knuckle and tracing her touch along the length of his fingers. He has beautiful hands. The hands of a pianist, among so many other things.

 

When she looks up again, his grin is practically from ear to ear. He seems entirely too pleased with their quiet moment and that can't be tolerated.

 

Okay. Okay, okay, Chloe. Time to take it up another notch.

 

She turns to face him more fully. Her knees bump against his and he leans in as she scoots to the edge of her seat. Does he really think that she's about to kiss him? It’s not a terr-

 

Oh wait, it actually is. Nevermind.

 

"Lucifer? Are you paying attention?"

 

"Every move and every breath, Detective."

 

"Then watch."

 

Her free hand traces along her own collarbone before serpentining its way down along her cleavage. Does this look sexy? She feels sexy, but also really quite drunk. Sober Chloe would be asleep and conscientious right now.

 

She pops open the fourth button on her shirt. Exposing half of the black, polka-dotted bra she's wearing underneath. It was one of her comfort bras for traveling, but it has a lace edge and is quite a pretty thing if not overly sexual.

 

"Oops," she says with a pout, and then _pop_ goes button number five.

 

He catches her hand, stopping her from undressing beyond the point of ‘revealing’ and into full on "

‘indecent’.

 

"Detective... er, perhaps you should-"

 

"It's so adorable to see you flustered like this, Lucifer."

 

"Flustered? I... yes. I was only trying to have little game, Detective, but you seem bent on not playing fairly."

 

She laughs, shaking her head. Not caring enough about what anyone else other than she and him have to think about the hushed scene they're making.

 

"But there's nothing under there I haven't seen before, I suppose," he says after an intentionally long and loaded pause. Scratching his chin thoughtfully and making a show of appraising her bosom.

 

" _Oh god_... I'm going to have to live down ‘Hot Tub High’ for the rest of my life, aren't I?"

 

He nods. Glumly. Fakely glumly, and she reaches out and pinches him. His eyebrow raises.

 

"I'm sorry, Detective, but yes. You'll always be 'The Girl Who Wasn't in High Definition' of my heart."

 

Oh, now _that..._ That goes too far. She pinches him again, this time a good bit harder. He yelps and she can see a few heads turn to look in her periphery. So she scoots even closer. Blocking their intimate tête-à-tête with her back until the other passengers lose interest.

 

"Violence, Detective!" he whispers, leaning in much to close like he always does. "Such acts of brutality won't be stood for."

 

He still hasn't let go of her hand. Despite his growing proximity into her space, there's a thread out self doubt on his face. He's flirting. She's flirting. But he's the one thats cautious, and she's the one that's refusing to give up all the ground she's gained.

 

"Lucifer?"

 

"Yes, Decker?"

 

Hmmm... using the last name name? And just what does that mean?

 

"I was pretty wild when I was young."

 

"You're still young. Just a sapling, really."

 

They're so close now. She's kissed him before, and she could do it again now with just a slight shift to her head.

 

But she has a better idea. A worse idea.

 

“Let’s go check out the bathroom together.”

 

A moment (of silence).

 

He blinks. Twice. Then opens his mouth to speak. Then shuts it (miracle of miracles). Until finally: “Are you… Detective, do you mean-”

 

“Yes.”

 

“...oh.”

 

“Scared, Lucifer?”

 

He swallows. Up this close, she can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down with the movement.

 

“Never, Detective. Not with you.”

 

And she smiles, then. But maybe she’d never stopped smiling.

 

“Then let’s go.”

 

Lucifer stands up so gracefully that his movements flow like silk. And he offers her his hand to help her to her feet.

 

“Ladies first, my dear. I shall be but a few steps behind you.”

 

Perfect. And who says Chloe Decker always has to be Miss Responsible? Now it’s time to have a little high-altitude fun.


	2. Chapter 2

They shuffle into the tiny space. Lucifer somehow effortlessly manages to close the door, half carry her, and open up the buttons of his jacket. All of this within the confines of one smooth, continuous sequence of movement. 

 

How? How can he do that? How can he be so confident and smooth when her heart is racing like a jackrabbit and every logical (and presumably soon to be oxygen-starved) cell in her brain is telling her _‘oh hold on, bad_ _ **fucking**_ _idea Chloe!’_.

 

How? Because he’s more than just the devil, apparently. He’s also a magician.

 

Nothing other than a supernatural force could have tempted her to do this. Tempt her to lift herself up onto the counter and scoot her butt far enough back so he has space to fit between her legs.

 

Champagne be damned, Chloe still knows much better than this. Not that it’s stopping her or even slowing her down very much.

 

And, godamnit,  do you know what one of the worst parts is? F irst class  actually has way nicer bathrooms than coach.  You might think that oh, an airplane bathroom is an airplane bathroom. But no. These are  actually so much better it’s kind of annoying.  Bigger  by  degrees  but also just  plain  classier , and is this a real  _ marble _ countertop under her ass? 

 

Okay, maybe cl assy is not the  right word to use right now.  B ut in a different situation yeah, this  would be considered a classy airplane bathroom  that she’s about to get ‘shtupped in.

 

S o she smoothes out her hair and leans back. Tries to look all ‘come-hither’ and reminding herself to (for the love of all) definitely not wink at him. Ever again.

 

“Well, well, Detective. Look at you.”

 

Lucifer is _glowing_. Grinning from ear to ear  so wide that he’s giving himself dimples.

 

Dan had dimples, too, but  _ oh no _ she's not going down memory lane right now. Tonight (or today or whatever time it is wherever over the ocean that they are), tonight is all about her and her partner  and the terrible decision they’re about to make. 

 

But said partner is also keeping his distance. At least as much distance as the tiny (but still classy) space will let them have from each other. He’s unbuttoning his clufflinks and Chloe randomly laughs.

 

“Buying time, Lucifer? I didn’t think you’d be the nervous one between the two of us.”

 

His smile changes at that. Lessens in width but gains in sincerity. He steps forward. Just one step because a second one would have brought him to standing between her thighs.

 

Theoretically that’s where he’s going to need to go eventually, but for now awkward flirting and toeing the line is about all either of them can seem to bring themselves to.

 

"Nervous? Certainly not, Detective. Kindly remember that _I_ am the one with prior experience with this sort of thing."

 

"Oh yes, Lucifer, you Cassanova," Chloe drawls with gentle mockery, "I'm sure you've brought many a Britney into these four walls."

 

"Well," he smiles ,"maybe not exactly _these_ walls, perhaps."

 

Chloe raises one her eyebrows. Tries to pout and look seductive. Except that she doesn't know how to flirt. She's never known how to flirt. But she's also very drunk and angry and horny so enthusiasm has to count for something.

 

Yet Lucifer... _hesitates_. Half looks like he's ready to pounce and half is unsure of how to handle the delicate glass ballerina he seems to think she's turned into.

 

Neither side moves a muscle and an oddly loaded silence builds between them. He is staring, intense and transfixed. Still smiling wide and open.

 

And still fully dressed. Perfectly kept and put together. Chloe is sure that it’s the alcohol talking, but she really wants to mess him up tonight. Tangle her fingers in his hair and leave him ragged after she tears his clothes off and marks his skin with her bites and kisses. Have him stumble out of the room all bow-legged and maybe (just maybe) she’ll smack his ass as he goes.

 

She’s feeling  _ wild _ . That’s the word for it. Wild and  looking to misbehave.

 

“Lucifer?” she asks, trying to make the word sound sweet and innocent on her drunken tongue.

 

“Yes, Detective?” The smile is closed-lipped now. Dark with intensity but still such a gentleman that he’s afraid to show her his metaphorical fangs. “What is it that’s on your mind?”

 

“Come here and start touching me.” Chloe just goes right out and says it. 

 

Then she flings her coat off. Not caring that it lands in the sink and is probably getting damp. She starts to work on the buttons of her shirt. Unsnapping them at a breakneck pace until a much better idea suddenly comes to mind. Time to put her befuddled and speechless partner to work.

 

She gestures at her torso. Cups her chest with her hands and watches as Lucifer's eyes widen to an almost anime level of proportions.

 

"De- Chloe, what are you-"

 

"Unbutton my shirt and take it off, Lucifer."

 

And that's an order. She raises her eyebrow again to convey the unspoken part and he stumbles over his syllables for a second before dumbly closing the distance between them.

 

Now they’re almost pressed together. But not quite. Lucifer stares down at her and, for the first time, she can detect the physical signs of his excitement. No, not _there_. Not yet, at least, but perhaps all things in their time (and maybe taking more than a forbidden nanosecond peak at his pants will one day be acceptable to Chloe). Instead, he's breathing harder than usual. His chest lightly skimming against hers with every inhale. And his pupils are blown wide, creating a matching counterpoint to the subtle sweat along his hairline.

 

She reaches out, swirling one of the short and ink-dark locks around her index finger. Then she hooks it behind his ear and pulls his head closer. With her sitting on this counter, they're nearly the same height.

 

"Kiss me."

 

Another order. Last time she kissed him, and he seems to understand that now it's _his_ turn to put himself out there.

 

He gives her a peck. A chaste meeting of their lips and nothing more.

 

She kisses him back. Harder and drunker and sloppier.

 

He hesitates then returns it. Working his lips against her languidly as he takes over the pace. Slowing it down into something sweet and gentle. 

 

It's nice. It's very nice. She'd forgotten that even the simple act of being kissed could be physically pleasing. And when she pulls away she doesn't go far. Leaning her forehead against his jaw and letting him kiss her temple.

 

"Detective?" he whispers. Not knowing how to safely proceed. Guess it's up to her to lead him, then.

 

"I told you to do something, Lucifer. You're not going to ignore that, are you?"

 

Chloe expects a wisecrack. Instead, he kisses her again. Softly on the lips then pulls back to place a peck on the tip of her nose. She wrinkles it in confusion, frowning at him and trying to read between the lines.

 

He’s unreadable, no doubt intentionally, but still he obligingly starts to undress her. Long, elegant fingers working each button open as he keeps his face close to hers, that damnable grin never leaving far from his face.

 

When her shirt is open he pulls back just enough for her to shrug it off. It lands with a gentle swoosh into the sink and a brief scowl about the potential germs distracts her until Lucifer's hands tangle in her hair and pull her lips back up to his own.

 

They stay like that for a long moment. Kissing slowly but with steadily rising passion and wandering hands. She returns the gesture back to him and slides his jacket open and off. Letting it pool somewhere onto the floor and it's not given another thought.

 

"What now, Detective?" he whispers against her lips. 

 

A noise form outside. The clink of a cart filled with glasses and beverages. Just how long have they been in here, anyhow?

 

Eh, who cares. Doesn't matter. If someone else needs in, they can just use the toilet on the other side of the aisle.

 

"Now, Lucifer,” she instructs, “now you keep touching me."

 

His grin is so _him._ So devilish. And he doesn't need to be told twice.

 

He scoops her up in his arms, lifting her up and adjusting her position so he can stand between her legs. And he places the first kiss to her neck. As soft and sweet as the ones to her lips and she knows he's both testing the uncharted waters as he is asking her for permission to continue.

 

She tips her head back, exposing more of her skin readily to him. Then tangles her fingers in his hair and guides his head back down. Her free hand grabs the front of his belt in a declaration of intent.

 

Words are difficult between them. They’re usually not. Normally both of them could talk equally deep or random thoughts to each other for hours if the setting was right. But now Chloe has to bite her lip to hold back her sigh as he starts kissing her neck. Nipping and kissing and sucking like they're a couple of teenagers getting fresh in the backseat of a car.

 

She giggles as he hits a sensitive spot. Tries to fight it but she knows that he knows.

 

"Ticklish, Detective? Truly? If I had known that I would have been exploiting this weakness from day one."

 

Weakness indeed, and he proves it even more by doing it again. Sucking on the delicate skin behind her ear and making her pleasantly itch with his warm breath.

 

"I would have shot you on day one if you'd even _thought_ about trying that."

 

"Oh? And what about if I try... _this,_ Detective?"

 

He cups her right breast. Easily spanning the full size of it with his palm and his thumb traces the lace scalloped shell of the top edge.

 

She moans. Blood suddenly feeling too warm and the skin of her chest breaking out in goosebumps.

 

Then she blushes profoundly. Despite the situation they’re in (the one she lead them in to herself), it’s still somehow so deeply awkward to make a sound like that around him. 

 

"Oh god, Lucifer... just like that. Exactly."

 

Verbal cues are alright, though. Sort of. And she covers up her rising embarrassment by allowing her free hand to reach around and cup his ass. Bringing their two pelvises nearly together.

 

He pulls back.

 

Just half a step and he's still so close he's practically mounting her. And, yes, he does look very uncertain. Maybe he needs to be praised? She had just told him this used to not be okay. 

 

“You talk a lot, Morningstar.”

 

It’s true. Rarely has the man shut his mouth for this long before. 

 

He raises an eyebrow to her statement. She grabs his hand and guides it to her covered breast. Lets him decide what to do with the swell of flesh. 

 

Hold it, apparently. Cup it in his hand but do nothing more than let it be there.

 

“And yet you seem to have left me at a loss for words, Detective,” he says after a moment of extended eye contact that would have been highly uncomfortable if Chloe wasn’t so drunk and curious.

 

“Go on.”

 

Hesitation still. Then he nods, ever so subtly. Rolls his thumb where her nipple slightly dents out the padded fabric. She wishes he would touch her bare skin, but somehow that’s just too much to ask right now.

 

“Can your mouth do anything else, or is this all that it’s good for?” She whispers it as quietly as the constant hum of engines and activity around them will allow to still be audible.

 

Can your mouth do anything but tease me? That’s the real question that’s on Chloe’s mind, but she’s still too shy to speak it out loud.

 

The way he stares at her as he takes in her question is so positively _sinful_. She can feel the reaction it triggers in her body. Blood starting to pound and settle into places far lower than her head. 

 

Then he falls to his knees and starts to take off her shoes.

 

Somehow this beautiful man prostrating before her is almost enough to make Chloe forget her inhibitions. Almost. Thanks to Trixie’s recent obsession with the nerdy footwear, she’s wearing her Chuck Taylors and she just can’t stop the decidedly unsexy thought about if her feet smell or not.

 

One shoe off, then the other. Lucifer peppers her ankles with kisses and it’s more sweetly reassuring than erotic. Guess she can’t be too funky, if he’s willing to worship her like that.

 

“I’d like to show you my specialty, Detective.”

 

He purrs it. So low and silken that she feels her inner muscles clench at the decadent sound. 

 

“And what is that, Lucifer?”

 

“I’m afraid I have to undress you first. But I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it.”

 

She blinks twice. It takes her a few seconds.

 

Oh. 

 

_ Oh. _

 

It’s been a long time since anyone has, er, “gone south”. Dan, actually, and he  definitely  knew his away around that  part of her,  as reluctant as she is to admit to it.

 

But he’s also the very,  singularly last thing that she wants to think about right now. Not when she’ s  thoroughly  horny, well above the legal limit, and about to make a choice that will not only haunt her but forever alter  t he i r  equilibrium.

 

So many valid concerns. And yet  “ t ake off my pants and get to work , ”  is what comes out instead.

 

Yeah, who says you can’t be a mom and still be a Bad Girl. Whatever that is. But HD or not, Chloe is feeling quite reckless at the moment. 

 

And no one ever has to know. That’s the whole key to this sordid mile-high bathroom boink: no one else ever, ever will know.

 

He does what she tells him to. Unbuttoning her jeans and easing down the zipper so gracefully that she doesn’t even notice until he’s tugging them down and her ass is getting in the way of his progress. She puts both hands on either side of the sink, reluctantly letting go of his soft hair, and lifts her butt up. 

 

Exactly like with her shoes, he shimmies her pants own and off before she can blink. Then it’s just her and her panties.

 

Thank god that they her bra match, right? How could she have a naughty Mile High fling in mismatched undergarments?

 

She unhooks at the back and slides the straps down her shoulders as his thumb traces the top edge of her panties. Black lace, polka dot, and scalloped. Matching, and she tries so desperately to ignore how her lower stomach flutters in nervous anticipation at his touch.

 

Chloe lets her bra cling to her skin. It’s only held on by the straps that are around her elbows, but somehow she doesn’t want to be fully naked. Not when he’s fully clothed (discarded jacket notwithstanding), and he’s gently easing the little scrap of fabric down her hips centimeter by centimeter. 

 

When they’re pooled on the floor and she’s exposed to him her legs press shut. Forming a single line of barricade preventing him from seeing that part of her.

 

This has suddenly gotten very, very real. And she’s suddenly feeling very, very exposed. And far too sober.

 

“Detective,” he croons, sensing or seeing her inner turmoil and he runs his warm hands up and down her hips. “I promise I’m very good at this.”

 

Because he’s had so much experience, right? Been there, done that. Business as usual in Lucifer’s land. And then here she is, the nerdy cop who once did Hot Tub High to rebel and prove something to someone, and she can’t remember what either part was as he tries to gently nudge her legs apart.

 

He’s on his knees in front of her, for godssakes. Chloe… live a little.

 

So she opens up (or technically allows him to open up). Regardless of the lump in her throat and how terrified she is right then. Determination. That’s it. Determination to see this out and ease the ever-growing throb between her thighs.

 

Lucifer blows on her skin. She didn’t realize how wet she was until he did that. It makes her shiver and squirm around. Wriggling against the edge of the sink and (obscenely and purely accidentally) making her more available to him.

 

He sinks forward, then, and starts taking care of her. Without warning or preamble. 

 

For that, she is very grateful. Appreciative of the way that he wraps his lips around her most sensitive parts. Finds her clit without needing a single hint of guidance.

 

Oh, good boy. Just like that.

 

He laps at her, working her until she’s biting her own palm to keep from moaning.

 

She wants him to add a finger or two into the mix. But then she also doesn’t want him to touch her. An odd mix of conflicting emotions.

 

The inner tension helps, in an odd way. Makes her muscle draw taut as he pushes her thighs apart even wider. Draws her legs over his shoulders and grabs her ass, pulling her forward and half off the countertop under her. It gives him more room to work and she meets his eyes for exactly one half of one second before she can’t stand it and has to look away. So she squeezes her eyes shut tightly. Tries to forget herself. She’s getting eaten out by a stranger. That’s what she has to tell herself is really happening. 

 

_ There _ go the fingers. Whether  Lucifer could sense her thoughts trying to jump ship and leave him for some generic fantasy guy or maybe he just felt like giving his tongue a little support. 

 

He eases a  single digit into her and she  allows a muffled  moan. Trying to hold back her guttural noises and practically smothering herself against her own palm.  It’s an awkward angle for them both. He has to contend with so much tension in her position and her legs and in  _her_ . And she has a  metal  faucet digging into the small of her back and random pestering thought about germs and bacteria that keep fighting for attention in her mind.

 

Then a second finger slides inside and _oh_ if that doesn’t make it easier to forget all the discomforts of the tiny room. She can feel his tongue do such lovely things on her clit. Sucking and swirling and playing with the little pulsating pearl until she squeals. 

 

A shiver of pure pleasure runs up and down her spine and, at that moment, Chloe would thank every last woman he’s ever done this to before.

 

He pushes into her more, not able to go too deeply with how her lower body in contorted. Which is a good thing, since her eyes are still closed and otherwise she’d have to look at him to tell him to take it easy on her (yeah, it’s been a while).

 

And, when he crooks them against her, he finds  _exactly_ the right spot. That little space against her top wall that has her giving up the fight and throwing her head back. Not caring that she hits it against the bathroom mirror, and not caring that the hand covering her mouth sinks into Lucifer’s hair and now anyone who’s  listening can hear her pant and moan her approval.

 

Eyes still closed, though. Otherwise it’s too real and not just a really  amazing , vivid fantasy.

 

He keeps pressing and rubbling and licking. She thinks he might be throwing some humming in there as well, but really, who’s keeping track? Not Chloe, certainly. Not as she can feel a very sharp orgasm start to build.

 

_ Oh God, Lucifer! _

 

She doesn’t know if she said that out loud or just left it stuck in her head. He wraps his lips around her and gently sucks. Using his tongue to push against her most sensitive little nub and draw shapes as her hips buck up to meet the movement.

 

Chloe’s nails claw into his hair as he pushes a third finger inside her. It stretches and burns a just a bit as her muscles grip it tightly. Right now, at this very moment, she’d rather be getting fucked. As flawlessly perfect as his lingual gymnastics are, having him inside her would be even better.

 

Oh, now that’s raunchy. Never, ever going to say _that_ aloud, but that doesn’t make the idea any less appealing.

 

Chloe imagines it just like that. How it would feel to have Lucifer fuck her instead of eating her out. How he would feel pushing so much deeper than his fingers could reach. The pressure she’d experience as she takes every inch of him. Lets him sink himself in to the hilt than grip him as he pulls out and begins to thrust.

 

It’s such a wonderfully dirty thought that it sends her over.  Brings her to orgasm right there in the airplane bathroom and against his face. 

 

S omehow she manage to do it pretty quietly. Biting down on her  own hand  to stifle the loudest of her moans and trusting the engine noise to hide the rest.

 

She clamps and spasms against his fingers, relieved that he gradually eases up. Carrying her gently through it but never prolonging it too much to the point of oversensitivity.

 

When he pulls away, she collapses against the sink and stares at the ceiling. Still panting and now sweaty and thoroughly  disheveled.

 

“Detective?” he whispers, rising up and straightening his shirt which had become just the tiniest bit askew from having her legs over it.

 

Chloe… can’t look at him. But she forces an awkward smile. Hugs him back as he embraces her and rubs his forehead against the crook between her neck and shoulder.

 

He’s hard against her. She can feel him pressing against her hip, even though he does nothing more than hold her.

 

She should reciprocate, right? It’s his turn and she should… oh crap. What should she do? Selfish as it is, she’s kind of done with her part of this encounter and the idea of fucking now has lost the orgasmic appeal it had a few moments ago. Still, though…

 

“Lucifer?” her voice sound weird to her ears. “Should I... Um, do you want me to-”

 

He laughs. It tickles her sweaty skin.

 

“No need, Detective. Though perhaps the next time.”

 

Next time? Oh...kay. She’ll process that later. 

 

For now, it’s enough to try and not collapse on her shaky legs as he steps aside and she hops off the edge of the sink. Blood flow still all akimbo and he steadies her as she hurriedly grabs her panties and slides them back on.

 

“Are you-”

 

“I’m fine, Lucifer.”

 

Maybe her tone was too sharp. He hesitates  with helping her get dressed again. So she looks up at him and smiles.

 

“Lucifer… it was… thank you.”

 

So polite. But when she kisses him he seems to understand what she can’t figure out how to say. 

 

“Next time,” she tries again. 

 

He nods. Fiddling with the finer details of her clothes and hair. Her  reflection doesn’t look  _that_ much like someone who’s just had a high altitude orgasm, at least. Hopefully everyone will just think that the flush on her cheeks is from all the champagne and not the rush of endorphins.

 

*

 

Chloe left the bathroom first. 

 

Lucifer had stayed to keep up the pretense of them not being seen leaving together. Maybe he also needed to collect himself, or… next time, okay? Next time she’ll make it up to him (somehow).

 

And he’s absolutely immaculate as always when he comes back. There’s a slight air of uncertainty around him as he sits down, but it fades as he happily accepts the glass of champagne she had poured for him.

 

They toast. This time it’s to a lovely flight together. No mention of the future or the recent past, until Chloe finally remembers there was something she needed to know.

 

“What _are_ you doing here, anyhow? How did you even find out about this mission?”

 

Lucifer draws his eyes away from the bewildering spectacle of ‘Tropic Thunder’. It was one of Trixie’s favorite movies and he’d insisted on watching it on his private screen despite Chloe’s warning that the film was… well, it was what it was. One of those sorts of things.

 

“You mean your ‘undercover assignment’? It was quite easy, actually. I simply put the pieces together and then explained why I would be the perfect partner for you.”

 

She frowns. Takes another sip of her champagne (which is starting to taste rather bitter and lifeless after so many hours of free drinking it) and dims the brightness setting on her screen to something less irritating to her sleepy eyes. Getting caught up on ‘Deadliest Catch’ will have to wait for later. 

 

Then she slowly starts to decipher his meaning.

 

“So… what you’re saying is… that… you’re here officially? You didn’t just decide to tag along at the last minute?”

 

“And risk missing our honeymoon? Heaven forbid, Detective. Heaven forbid.”

 

No mention of the H-word is ever less than fully-loaded around Lucifer.

 

“You mean that-”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re actually my...” she can’t say the words. Not after what just happened.

 

“Your fake husband? Of course I am. You should have suspected none less from me. And I do believe we have the whole plane convinced, at least judging by the number of ‘high-fives’ I was offered on my way back after our tryst.”

 

Chloe winces. She’d kept her eyes glued to the floor went she’d slunk out of the bathroom. Go figure freakin’ Lucifer would be parading on his way back.

 

“What about...” she takes another deep drink, starting to feel almost immune to the effects by now. “What about Dan? He already left. So when we get there, he’s just-”

 

“Our porter, yes.”

 

“ _You didn’t._ ”

 

“Of course I did. It’s all part of the disguise, darling. I wouldn’t be seen dead carrying my own luggage while on honeymoon.”

 

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. _Poor_ Dan. 

 

“That’s… so mean. Lucifer, you _really_ shouldn’t have.”

 

He shrugs. Clinking his glass to hers even if she hadn’t offered it.

 

“You’re going to have to be the one to tell him, Lucifer. When he left yesterday, he didn’t know about… his change of assignment. So you’re going to have to be the one to beak it to him.”

 

Please? She feels so bad for her Ex, douche that he often may be.

 

“It will be my absolute pleasure, my darling.”

 

Darling? Eek. But she guesses he couldn’t very well call her Detective anymore.

 

Her eyes follow Lucifer’s to where he’s staring at the flight path on the central monitor. They still have nearly seven more hours before they land.

 

The wicked grin he sends her way as he catches her hand and holds it in his own tells her exactly where his head is going to be at for the remainder of the time. She had promised him a ‘next time’ after all but-

 

With perfect timing, the fasten seatbelt light comes on and the captain makes an announcement about an unexpected headwind. Lucifer pouts a little and kisses her knuckles.

 

They both pretend to go back to their own shows, but she has the complete feeling he’s planning on missing the ending to his movie the second the warning light goes back off.

 

And _oh_ , if the words ‘turbulence ahead’ weren’t just the perfect metaphor for their relationship then and now, Chloe doesn’t know what is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn’t make Chloe too unlikable. When I was writing out their sex scene I tried to keep it true to how I think their first time together would be and it just didn’t feel right for Chloe to suddenly transform from the nerdy (and slightly dorky) girl that we all love to some sort of wild and inhibition-free sex goddess. And I don’t think Lucifer would mind being extra generous with his Detective at first, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 2nd fic writing from Chloe’s POV it’s just soooo much fun. She’s one of my very favorite characters and I hope I did her at least a little justice. Trying to figure out how she’d react to this rather ridiculous situation I put her in while still trying to keep it realistic to her character…
> 
> Chapter 2 things get a lot friskier, I just wanted to have some playtime in Chloe’s head first to set the scene and tension up right.


End file.
